


Her Heart

by lotus0kid



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2017, Supernatural Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotus0kid/pseuds/lotus0kid
Summary: To save her village from ogres, Belle’s heart powers a shield strong enough to block any danger from entering.  However, doing so drains her life energy, leaving her bedridden and weak.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notalwayslate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwayslate/gifts).



> Happy Rumbelle Christmas in July! This fic was written for [notalwayslate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwayslate) using the prompt "Want to feel your heartbeat."

Hot sunshine pours down on the Marshlands village.  It seems a pleasant place, Rumpelstiltskin supposes, but he shouldn’t linger.  They have _views_ on the use of magic here.  Not that they could do him any real harm, but for once he hasn’t come to make a spectacle of himself.  This is a quiet little _tête-à-tête_ , and he probably should be paying more attention.

His companion at this sticky tavern table grins as he examines his new acquisition- a glass vial pinched between two dirty fingers.  The red-black liquid inside churns as the brigand Cyril Vyne tilts it back and forth and mutters, “Oh yes, this will give Perata a right shock, next time he moves in on my territory.  Can’t wait to see the look on his face...”

“Indeed,” Rumpelstiltskin concurs with his own stained grin.  “And now,” a black-nailed hand glides in an elegant curve that stops in front of Vyne, “my payment.”

“Right, yeah, here you go.”  He hooks a thumb under the tarnished chain around his neck, pulling it over his head and lowering the medallion strung on it into Rumpelstiltskin’s palm.  “Dunno what you want that piece of scrap for.  My father always said it was garbage, not worth the effort of hawking.”

Naturally this man’s halfwit of a sire wouldn’t recognize a fragment of the map to the mysterious lost treasure of Dsinezumi, rumored to be larger than Midas’ trove.  And Rumpelstiltskin isn’t about to mention it.  “Don’t you think it’s pretty?” he simpers, holding the chain up so the medallion lies on his chest.

“Yeah, whatever,” Vyne replies with a curled lip.  He rises, hiking a leg over his stool to rotate away from the table.  “I’m off then, got a long ride before I’m home.  Cheers, Dark One.”

“Happy trails,” Rumpelstiltskin warbles, wiggling his fingers at Vyne’s retreating back.  Once the thief is gone, he flips his cloak’s hood over his head and lowers the barrier of magic that encircles the table.  The various sounds of the tavern return, and music floats in from outside.  Rumpelstiltskin stands and wanders to the window that looks out on the village square.

It seems a midsummer festival has begun.  A group of villagers has gathered to dance.  Among them, a flash of blue skirts and brown curls catches Rumpelstiltskin’s eye.


	2. Chapter 2

There is someone outside Collioure.

Belle grimaces and burrows deeper into her nest of blankets, silently begging the magic to let her sleep.  But there’s no escape, no matter how exhausted she is.  Every person who approaches the shield demands her attention.  Normally, she feels them like pebbles pressed into the walls of her heart.  Not painful exactly, but far from comfortable.  Still, better by far than ogres.  Since her enchantment, every attack by the invading horde has felt like a vice clamped around her heart, almost but not quite squeezing the life from her.

Curiosity filters through the weariness as she focuses on this new arrival.  They don’t feel like a pebble, or a vice.  More like the firm press of a palm.  It’s puzzling.

She has a choice now.  She can harden her heart, and harden the shield, and keep this person out.  Or she can soften, and allow them to enter.  She focuses more intently.  Every now and then among the pebbles, one is needle sharp.  Those she blocks, always.  This palm person doesn’t seem to have a hidden needle.  In the faint hope of getting some sleep, she lets them in, and promptly dozes off.

Too soon, she’s disturbed again, not by her heart but by voices in the hall outside.  She recognizes one as her mother’s, and there’s another she doesn’t know.  It has a strange cadence, a sing-song bounce that grates on her ears.  She can’t imagine what they could be discussing and she doesn’t particularly care.  All she wants is sleep.

If it wasn’t already busy, her heart would sink as the door creaks open.  Belle dully watches the light of a candle flicker over her chamber’s bare stone walls as Colette pads to the bed and lays a hand on her shoulder.  “Wake up, dearest,” she whispers, “I’m sorry, but you must wake up.”

Belle’s head lolls toward Colette and she blinks scratchy eyes.  “What is it?”

“Someone is here to see you.  He’s, um... a doctor.”

Whoever Colette has brought lets out a sharp bark of a laugh from where he stands in the shadows just inside the room.  Belle flinches and her brow furrows.  “Mother, I told you, I’m not sick.  It’s the magic, it’s-”

“Belle, _please_ ,” Colette interrupts, her face drawn tight, “Let him- take a look.  For me.”

Colette doesn’t understand.  But then, Belle didn’t give her a chance to, did she?  Everything happened so fast, after over a year of agonizing survival.  Villages in the west were falling every day and Collioure would surely follow if Belle didn’t _do_ something.  The thing her father and his advisors and the clerics had dismissed out of hand.  The thing that saved them all.  Maybe if she plays along, Colette will finally accept reality.  “All right, Mother.  I’ll see him.”

A delicate smile graces Colette’s face, and she touches a palm to Belle’s cheek before standing and stepping away.  Their visitor saunters forward, straightening the lapels of a thick leather coat and running reptilian eyes along the full length of Belle’s body.  For her part, she squints at him, wondering if his skin is actually covered in shimmering scales or if she’s even more tired than she thinks she is.

“Who are you?” she inquires.

“I’m someone who could’ve helped, if you’d only thought to ask.  Now look at you.”  He flicks a hand at her sorry state.

Pride stinging, Belle replies in a steely voice, “My family and friends are safe.  That’s all that matters.”

“Is it?” the visitor retorts.  He then spins around and sits on the edge of the mattress, crossing his legs and folding both hands over a knee.  In the tone of a patient governess, he says, “So, tell me what happened.”

“The horde was coming.  Our village was going to fall.  So I made a wish to the fairies.”

“Ah,” the visitor says, “Your first mistake.”

“The one who came, she helped me,” Belle insists,  “She said I’d be able to protect Collioure, and I can.”

“Right, that shield outside.  Powerful stuff, I’ll grant you that.  There’s true love in it.  Unbreakable, I’d bet.  _But_ , dearie, at what cost?”

Their eyes meet.  A stubborn desire not to let this person get the upper hand holds Belle’s tongue.  He seems to think he’s very smart, but Belle imagines he couldn’t guess what’s truly important in life.

Colette steps into the taut silence between them.  “Controlling the shield is draining the life from her.  She barely eats.  She can’t walk the length of the hall without swooning.  It’s killing her.”

“Oh, she probably won’t _die_ , not exactly,” the visitor says, “Her heart may very well keep beating until this village crumbles into dust.  As for what will happen to the rest of her...”  He looks away with his brows raised high, leaving Belle and Colette to contemplate a horrific future.

“It doesn’t matter,” Belle declares, “I asked for the means to protect Collioure and that’s what I got.  I won’t risk doing anything that might threaten the enchantment.  If the shield fails, we’ll all die.  I won’t allow it.  So, thank you for coming to see me... whoever you are.  And good night.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and stands.  “Right!  Well, it’s been an absolute thrill to see Collioure’s dirty little secret.  So long, ladies.”

“Wait!” Colette cries, but in a puff of dark smoke, he’s vanished.

After the room has cleared, Belle asks, “Who was that, Mother?”

“That was the Dark One,” she responds desolately.

Belle rises onto her elbows to gape at Colette.  “Are you serious?  You brought the _Dark One_ here?  What were you thinking?  You know all the stories.  He’s dangerous.  He-”

“I’m frightened, Belle!” Colette shouts, blinking away tears, “I am losing you to this magic.  More and more I think the clerics were right.  You shouldn’t have meddled with powers not meant for mortals.”

“What did he mean, ‘Collioure’s dirty little secret?’”

Colette sighs gives a helpless shrug.  “The clerics have refused to acknowledge that the shield is fairy magic.  They call it a gift from the gods.  Your father made a pronouncement that you’ve contracted a wasting illness and cannot be disturbed- which is hardly inaccurate.”

Every flat word is a blow.  Of course Belle knows her people’s generally negative opinion of magic that’s not wielded by the gods.  It’s one she holds herself to a degree.  But she might have hoped her efforts would be recognized, if nothing else.  Instead, she’s been hidden away in this windowless chamber, left to toil in darkness while they sing the praises of the gods.  Belle lets out her own sigh, and lies back down.  “I’ve humored you long enough, Mother,” she says, “I need to rest.  Please.”

“Very well,” Colette murmurs, and leaves.

It still doesn’t matter, Belle tells herself.  She isn’t doing this because every soul in Collioure deserves to be saved.  She’s doing this because she believes it’s right.  She knows it’s right.  This is the price of magic.

She rolls onto her side, and lets a few tears seep into her pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

The vibration of a dozen massive feet races through the ground and up into the shield.

“Oh no,” Belle moans just before the vice clamps down.  She writhes on the bed, eyes screwed shut and leaking tears as she focuses all her will on turning her heart to stone, to iron, to diamond.

The ogres rage outside, smashing their fists against her heart, launching boulders and trees at it, roaring so it trembles in her chest.  She will not falter.  Her heart is a mountain and the rest of her is nothing.  Weak flesh and bone left to thrash and whimper through the pain, back bowing and fingers clawing and heels scraping at sweat-soaked sheets.

It takes ages, but finally the vice loosens, and Belle feels a hand smoothing over her damp hair and hears Colette crooning, “... There now, sweetheart, just keep breathing.  Deep breaths, just like that.”

Belle discovers she’s panting for air.  “M-Mother,” she croaks, “Please, will you light some candles?”  The room’s pitch darkness is like a shroud pulled over her face.

The hand stops.  “Belle, the candles are lit.”

Her breath catches as cold fear rushes through her.  “Mother...” she whispers, groping for the place she heard Colette’s voice.  Two hands grip hers, but it’s not enough to stop the flood of panic.  Tiny gasping shrieks escape her lungs as her gaze swings around, desperately trying to identify anything in the dark.

From far away, Colette babbles, “Belle, please, oh dearest, please be calm...  Oh gods...”

“M-my books, what about my books?” Belle mumbles, her reeling mind snatching at the last piece of her old life she has left.  If she can’t have that, if it’s to be all darkness and attacks on her heart, she will go mad.  “I don’t want this,” she sobs, “I can’t.  Mother, please help me!”

“I will, sweetheart.  _Rumpelstiltskin_!”

After the last echo of Colette’s scream, Belle feels a palm pressing down on her bruised heart.  She summons the focus to let him in.  Instantly there’s a puff of wind, and a voice saying, “Ah, good evening, ladies.”

“Help her!  Now!  Please!”

“Why hello, Rumpelstiltskin, so good of you to come,” he grumbles.  Belle feels the mattress dip under his weight.  “You look like you’ve been through a war, dearie,” he quips.

“There was an attack, a bad one.  You see what it’s done to her.  She’s gone blind.”

Rumpelstiltskin lets out a hum that almost sounds concerned.  Belle flinches at the touch of a clawed thumb at her temple.  “Stay still now,” he chides her, “You don’t want me to get this wrong.”

Belle’s entire body is trembling, but she does her best to remain motionless, even as a tingling sensation crawls over both eyes.  She blinks, and almost starts sobbing again as a haze of light filters through the dark.  Slowly, the light bends around the forms of Colette and Rumpelstiltskin.  She blinks over and over until she can discern their faces.

Colette cries out and yanks Belle into her arms.  Relief has sapped the tiny bit of strength left in Belle so she can only collapse against her mother, who weeps on her shoulder.

“Well, if that’s all...” Rumpelstiltskin mutters.

As he begins to rise from the bed, Colette’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.  “No.  You will stay.  You will free my daughter from this enchantment.  I don’t care what it takes.”

“Oh, don’t say that, my lady,” he warns with a smirk, “Remember it can always get worse.”

“Nothing is worse than watching my child die.  Can’t you understand that?”

He doesn’t seem to have a witty retort for this.  His unreadable gaze jumps from Colette to Belle and back.  “I understand,” he replies, voice soft in a way it hasn’t been so far.  He settles on the bed again, and Colette gently lays Belle back on the sheets.  “You might like to know I’ve been thinking about your little predicament.  I must admit, as a professional, I’m curious as to how it might be resolved.  And, really, any chance to show up the sparkly gnats...”

“The shield must remain in place,” Belle states.  She can just barely allow herself to look for a way out of this, but not at the expense of Collioure’s protection.

“Of course,” Rumpelstiltskin murmurs, crossing an arm over his stomach and tapping black nails against his cheek.  “True love is the problem here, as always.  Your shield isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you.  Nothing can destroy true love.  But, perhaps, it could be transferred.”

“Where?  How?”

Rumpelstiltskin extends a hand toward the foot of the bed.  A spark of white light appears in the air, growing as he slowly rotates his hand until it forms a floating crystal in the shape of a human heart.

“That’s very pretty.  What is it?”

“With luck, a kind of surrogate heart.  If it can be filled with your love of Collioure, I can then shift the enchantment to it.  The shield will remain, and you will be free.”

“Are you certain?”

Rumpelstiltskin lets out an unnerving titter, “Of course not!  Nothing like this has ever been done before, not that I know of.  We’ll be pioneers, dearie!”

Belle does not share his excitement.  She sighs and looks to her mother.  “We might at least try, sweetheart,” Colette says, squeezing Belle’s hand between hers.

“Yes,” she replies softly before returning her attention to Rumpelstiltskin, “All right.  How do we- transfer my love?”

“I... don’t know,” he admits.  “Do either of you have any thoughts?”

Colette rolls her eyes and shifts so she can face Belle on the bed, taking hold of both her hands.  “The weather was lovely yesterday.”

“Was it?”  Belle aches to breathe some fresh air, just once more.

“Oh yes.”

Colette continues speaking, and Belle listens and responds.  Then they startle slightly when Rumpelstiltskin jabs a finger at the crystal heart and exclaims, “Ah!  Look at that!”

Belle and Colette watch as golden light glints within the crystal’s white glow.  “Oh,” Colette sighs, “How lovely.  Um... what were we talking about?”

Belle blinks and her brow furrows.  What _were_ they talking about?  Yesterday’s weather, and then...  It wasn’t a moment ago, but she can’t recall.

“Picnics at the cove,” Rumpelstiltskin answers.

“Where?” Belle asks.

“There’s a cove near here?” Colette sounds as perplexed as Belle feels.

Rumpelstiltskin releases a heavy sigh, his somber gaze moving between the two ladies.  “Magic always comes with a price.  And the price of moving true love from a living heart to a fake one is high indeed.  If you give a beloved memory, you lose it forever.”

Colette gasps, her head lowering.

Belle is more disappointed than she’d like to admit.  She almost dared to hope for a moment that she could be free and still protect Collioure.  But the bewildered grief on her mother’s ashen face is far more than she can bear.  However, an idea occurs to her, probably a desperate one, but she still tells Rumpelstiltskin, “Take my mother’s place.  I want to try something.”

Both he and Colette look unsure, but change positions silently.  Belle scoops up both of Rumpelstiltskin’s hands in hers.  His whole body stiffens, though he doesn’t yank them away.

Belle heaves a breath, and says, “I’m going to tell you a story.  Once, when I was very young...”

She continues to speak, keeping her eyes trained on Rumpelstiltskin’s until a flash catches her attention and she sees more gold shining in the crystal heart.  But she has no idea what put it there.

“Do you remember what I told you?” she asks Rumpelstiltskin.

“Your father took you on a fishing trip, and you got scared by a lobster.”

Belle feels no connection to his words.  If not for the pronouns he could’ve been talking about a stranger.  Regardless, she says, “Well, now we know.  We can still do this.  It just has to be you and I.”

“Belle, are you sure?” Colette asks, her fingers knotted together and pressed against her stomach.

“I won’t let you give up your memories.  But, I can.”  She turns back to Rumpelstiltskin.  “Are you willing to help me?”

For the second time, his quips and gestures seem to abandon him, leaving an entirely different man to meet her gaze and nod.  “I am.”

“All right.”  Fatigue steals over her and she lifts a hand to rub at her eyes- only then noticing she’s been holding on to Rumpelstiltskin all this time.  For a monster of avowed darkness, his hands are rather warm and gentle.  She’d almost like to hold them as she falls asleep.  “That will have to be enough for today.  I’m too tired to continue.”

“Yes, of course, dear,” Colette says, immediately swooping in to pull the blankets up to Belle’s chin.  “My brave daughter,” she murmurs, pride shining in her eyes.

Belle wants to refute her.  True bravery would be remaining as she was- the uncomplaining protector of Collioure.  _Which is what they will have, when we’re done_ , she tells herself while looking to the glowing crystal heart.  It will be nice to have light in this room beyond candles.

“When shall I return?” Rumpelstiltskin asks.

“In three days.”  She usually sleeps for at least two after weathering an attack.  Right now she feels like she could sleep for a week.

“Very well.  Good evening, ladies.”  He vanishes without another word.  Belle wonders if he’s somehow uncomfortable with their arrangement.  But then, he said he was willing to help.  He is a strange one.  Belle isn’t sure what to make of him.  In any case, her eyelids are already drooping, so she lets herself sink into a heavy, black sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Belle only stirs a few times from her slumber to allow people to pass through the shield.  Otherwise, nothing penetrates the black fog she wanders alone.  At some point, a hand presses on her heart, and she follows it back to full consciousness.  Her mother and Rumpelstiltskin stand by the bed.

“Oh, hey,” she mumbles, eyes barely able to focus on them through her lethargy.

“Hello,” Rumpelstiltskin replies.

Colette perches on the edge of the bed, smoothing back Belle’s hair.  “How are you feeling?”

“Still tired.”

Rumpelstiltskin gives a thoughtful hum.  “Have you eaten anything?”

Belle frowns and glances at Colette, wondering if her mother might have fed her while she slept.  But Colette shakes her head.  “She’s eaten nothing.  This is the first time she’s woken since the attack.”

Rumpelstiltskin laces his fingers behind his back and rocks on his feet.  “I thought that might be the case.”

“What do you mean?” Belle asks.

“The shield has two sources of power.  Your love, and your life.  We’ve disrupted the balance between them.  And I’d wager the more love we transfer to the heart, the more life will be fed to the shield.  Eventually, none will be left to sustain your waking self.”

Belle regards him silently for a moment.  “That’s my fate anyway, isn’t it?”

“On the opposite end of the balance, yes.  Over the years your body will naturally age until all that’s left is your love, which will never die.”

“Right.  So, decades spent in this bed only to end up exactly the same as I would if what we do now goes wrong?”

“Either that, or the enchantment collapses completely while moving between the hearts.  Which could kill you.  It’s not a likely outcome, but it is possible.  What fate do you choose?”

Belle takes a deep breath, and pushes herself up on shaky arms.  “I choose to try.  I’ll spend my life in this bed if I have to.  But only if I have to.”

Rumpelstiltskin looks like he might smile, but it doesn’t quite happen.  Colette stands and he takes her place on the edge of the mattress.  He holds out his hands, Belle lies back and wraps her own around them.  “Have you thought of a story to tell me?” he asks.

“Too busy sleeping, I’m afraid.”

“I see.  Well, what would you do now if you could leave this bed?”

A small smile comes to Belle’s face, even as part of her dreads the loss of whatever memory she chooses now to sacrifice.  She imagines walking through the castle until she emerges from the door to the kitchen gardens and ventures down the path to the main road.  Then she describes what her imaginary self would do next.  Soon, a pulse of golden light from the crystal heart catches her eye, and she realizes that she’s gesturing to the books strewn around her bed.  Looking at them now fills her with a heavy, ineffable grief.  She knows they must be worth more than the words printed inside, but not to her, not anymore.

After a moment, Rumpelstiltskin asks, “Now what would you do?”

They go several more rounds like this before Belle’s energy flags and she drifts off into a doze mid-sentence.  Her brain is sluggish and her heart is sore, as if something was wrung out of it.  She supposes something was, though she doesn’t know what shape it took.

Rumpelstiltskin leaves, and Belle sinks back into the black fog that now seems deeper and wider than before.  She follows the press of a hand on her heart for a long time before she finally wakes again.  Above her, Colette watches with a pinched mouth and shadowed eyes.  Rumpelstiltskin stands a few steps away, hands again tucked behind his back.  “How long was I asleep?” Belle asks.

“Five days.”

She’s never slept for so long, not waking even to let people pass the shield, and that’s after just one full session of transferring her love to the heart.  She can’t decide if they should work faster or slower.  Tamping down her fear, she twists her mouth into a smile and says, “How are you, Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Well enough.  Ready for more stories.”  He flicks out the tails of his coat and settles on the edge of the bed before extending his hands to Belle.

She takes them, tries to draw some of their strength.  He can stand up and walk out of here when they’re done.  Or he could summon his own magic and whisk himself off to anywhere in the world.  Reminding herself firmly to use jealousy only as motivation, Belle gives her head a small shake and organizes her thoughts.  “Right.  So.  When I was... when I was young...”

Sometime later, Belle watches a little more of the crystal heart’s white glow turn gold, then looks to see Rumpelstiltskin wearing a small grin that’s surprisingly sweet for his eerie face.

“Is something funny?” she asks, wondering what recollection could have amused him.  She’ll never know.

The grin falls.  “Nothing to concern yourself with, dearie.  What else?”

They continue until Belle’s words turn to nonsense and her head lolls on the pillow.  She doesn’t even notice Rumpelstiltskin leaving.


	5. Chapter 5

When Belle wakes again, it’s not Rumpelstiltskin’s or Colette’s presence drawing her from the black fog.  She’s not sure what woke her, what time it is, how long she’s been asleep- everything is silent around her, but it’s always that way in this stone chamber.  She was asleep when she was brought here, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t perfectly aware that she’s been stashed away in the castle’s dungeon.  As if saving her village was the most terrible crime.  But then, by the clerics’ reckoning, wasn’t it?  Perhaps they demanded that Lord Maurice inflict some sort of punishment for her disobedience.  It’s been so long since she last saw her father...

Belle pushes these pointless thoughts away.  If she’s awake, she has work to do.  “Rumpelstiltskin,” she whispers into the air.

For several minutes, she gets no answer.  Worry seeps into her permanent fatigue.  How long _has_ she been asleep?  Has he given up on her- or, their business here?  Of course it must be unspeakably boring for the Dark One to sit and listen to her ramble on about her provincial life, perhaps he needed a break.

She’s debating whether to call again or return to sleep when she feels him press on her heart.  With a smile curling her lips, Belle lets him in.

Once his cloud of magic dissipates, he casts a squinted glance around the room that eventually falls on Belle.  “Where is your mother?”

“I don’t know.  What time is it?”

“We’ve entered the wee hours of the morning, dearie.”

“Then I suppose she’s asleep.  She can’t be my nursemaid every moment.”  If Belle is constantly exhausted, she can’t even imagine what her mother has endured.  There is no greater hero in Belle’s mind than the Lady Colette.

Rumpelstiltskin wrinkles his nose and twitches his shoulders.  “Well, what am I doing here then?  The Dark One can’t be invited into a young lady’s chamber unchaperoned.  Who knows what evil deeds I might inflict on you?”

He sounds like one of her old nannies, and Belle bursts into ringing giggles.  When they fade she lets out a blissful sigh, “Oh, thank you.  That was lovely.”  At his look of pure bafflement, she says, “You’re not going to harm me, Rumpelstiltskin.  You never were.”

“How do you know?” he shoots back, looking like an affronted cat.

“I know when there’s evil in the heart of someone who tries to cross the shield.  I feel it, so I block them.”

At this he gives her a knowing nod, “Ah, yes, I’d heard rumors of those who were stranded outside Collioure, unable to enter.  There was a noted dastardly streak among them.”

Belle is glad to hear this.  The last thing Collioure needs while fighting their little war is unscrupulous people looking to take advantage of the turmoil.  “Will the crystal heart be able to do that?  Keep out more than just ogres?”

“Probably not.  And as of now, I’d bet any ogre could waltz in as well.”

Belle’s heart clenches reflexively.  “Why?”

“Because it knows nothing of them.  If you want the shield to be strong, we must train it to hate them as you do.”

“I don’t hate them,” Belle counters, “Ogres are beasts.  If they weren’t so destructive they’d be a nuisance, not an invasion.  You can’t hate something that can’t hate you back.  I can’t, anyway.”

“That’s a very rational attitude,” he replies with a smirk, “But you know perfectly well that neither hate nor love are rational.  Perhaps you do not hate.  But love isn’t always warm and fuzzy, golden memories of summer days and sweet treats.  It can be a tight fist, the fire in your gut.  It can kill, when necessary.”

He speaks from experience.  Curiosity rages in Belle, but she manages to hold her tongue.

Meanwhile, he squints at her and muses, “I wonder, might it have crossed your mind to ask the fairies for a weapon?”

“I asked to protect Collioure.  I didn’t specify how.”

He lets out a short growl.  “Your second mistake.  Those glittery pests never think to tell you the true price of their help.”  He pauses, lips twisted in thought, “And then everyone is so horrified by me, just because I’m honest.  You’d think they’d appreciate a plain-dealing villain.”

“You’re not a villain,” Belle murmurs.  At his instant protest, she continues, “I believed you were, before.  I’d heard the stories.  That’s why I called on the fairies instead of you, even though I’d also heard stories of how fairy magic can have consequences.  But you’re not who I thought you were.  And I’m glad.”

To her unending surprise and his obvious discomfort, she actually rather likes the strange, scaly sorcerer.  She can’t imagine anyone else helping her through this, and she doesn’t want to.

Of course her frank words only fluster their recipient.  He huffs and sniffs and shuffles over to take his place on the edge of the bed and hold out his hands.  “Anyway, let’s talk about ogres, shall we?”

Belle’s good mood dissolves.  She has no doubt that he’s right and the crystal heart needs as thorough an education on ogres as possible, but that doesn’t make her any more eager to dive into her worst memories.  One blessing of the enchantment is that vicious nightmares can’t follow Belle into the black fog of her sleep.  She arranges blankets while muttering, “Well now, let me think...”

“Quit stalling, I haven’t got all night.”

“I’m _not_ stalling,” Belle snaps, “I should be careful though, shouldn’t I?  I can’t give up too many memories, I might forget what we’re doing here entirely.”  That’s the worst end she can imagine for this risky endeavor.  At least she knows she’s in this bed for a noble purpose, and by her own choosing.  The idea of forgetting why she’s enduring all this leaves her harried and afraid.  “I can’t think, I...  Tell me something.  Tell me one of your stories.”

“What?”

“Tell me something and I’ll tell you about the ogres.  You can make it up if you want, it’s not like I’ll know.”

“I rather think you would,” he grumbles, “Why on Earth do you want to know anything about me?”

She sighs, “Look, if I don’t leave this bed, you might be the last person I ever meet for the rest of my life, however long that ends up being.  Can’t I at least know you?”

He scowls and gives her another squint, “Perhaps you just want to learn the Dark One’s weaknesses.  Sell them to the fairies for your freedom.”

Belle rolls her eyes, thinking if he won’t accept a friendly overture, she could try the selfish approach.  “I want a way to keep my brain occupied.  Give me something to stay awake for.”  She pauses and frowns, “Unless you think the heart will take your memories.”  She wouldn’t wish for anyone to have their memory riddled with blank gray patches like hers, especially not Rumpelstiltskin.

He flicks his fingers as if shooing off a fly.  “Not at all.  It was made to protect Collioure, not some tiny Frontlands village.”

“The Frontlands?” Belle inquires with raised brows and a hint of hope in her voice.

Rumpelstiltskin blows out an irritated breath, throwing one leg over the other and folding his arms.  “Yes, the Frontlands.  In a village...” He rocks close and snarls, “Where there was fetid pit of slime and parasites in which I was grown.”

Belle snorts and reaches for his hand.  “Once, when you were very young...” she begins.

“When I was very young...” Rumpelstiltskin sneers, then falls silent as his fearsome mask finally slips, revealing the quiet man Belle has only glimpsed so far.  Something soft shines in his eyes, and he begins to speak, “I lived with two women.  I called them my aunts, though gods know if they were any true relations to me.  But they were kind, and they taught me to spin.  Not straw into gold.  Real spinning, the craft of it.  It wasn’t long before I could sew and weave and embroider too.  One year, Aunt Iph’s birthday fell on a market day.  Aunt Im and I snuck away and bought an embroidered shawl for her.  However, there was a fierce wind, and it snatched the shawl right out of Aunt Im’s hands.  It snagged in a tree, and when we tried to pull it down, it tore.  There was nothing Aunt Im could do- she had to return to our stall if we wanted coin to last the winter.  I told her to leave it with me.  I ran home, and worked deep into the night, straight on til morning, when I was able to present Aunt Iph with her new shawl.  You’d hardly notice the patch, I’ll have you know.  Anyway, the new violets hid it fairly well.”

As silence stretches between them, Belle finds a wide smile has appeared on her face that she can’t shake.

Rumpelstiltskin curls his lip at it and mumbles, “There, was that bit of fiction gooey enough for you?  Can we return to the task at hand?”

He’ll swear to the end of time that not a word of what he told her was true.  Which makes Belle all the more certain every word was.  She aches to ask a hundred questions about Young Rumpel, but instead tucks his story away in a safe part of her tattered memory.  As her mind moves from that place, and ventures to where there are ogres, she could almost swear the crystal heart’s glow dims.  Nonetheless, she begins to speak.

As Belle watches the crystal heart let out a new pulse of gold, she flinches slightly at a calloused thumb running over her cheek.  Rumpelstiltskin snatches his hand back, eyes on a far corner of the room as his first finger rubs over his thumb, smearing away Belle’s tear.  She swipes the back of her hand along her other cheek, and looks at the damp shine left over, wondering what caused it.  Perhaps she should be happy to lose what must have been a painful memory.  But she just feels empty and lost.  And tired, fatigue flooding her muscles so her head drops back on the pillows.

“One more, or sleep?” Rumpelstiltskin asks.

“I... I’ll try one more,” she mumbles.  But she’s so weak, her head feels like it’s being dragged down into an inky swamp.  She pulls on Rumpelstiltskin’s hand until she can wrap it around the side of her neck to prop her head up.  As before, he very politely refrains from jerking away, even if he’s gone entirely stiff.  Belle does her best to focus and speak, to feed more darkness to the heart, until she succumbs to it herself.

She thinks Rumpelstiltskin might be calling her name, but it’s too late.  She’s lost in the black fog, wandering its endless expanse forever.


	6. Chapter 6

_Belle!_

Who is calling her?  It’s a woman’s voice, tiny and yet seeming to come from everywhere at once.  Who is it?  She sounds frightened.

_Belle!_

Mother.  Colette.  Belle has to find her.  Has to see her, one last time.  She runs through the black fog, on and on until her body goes numb.  Eventually she finds herself in bed, leaden eyelids slowly rising to take in the dim sight of Colette’s tear-streaked face.

Her mother releases a ragged gasp and covers her mouth as two more tears roll down her cheeks.  “Sweetheart, you’re awake,” she whispers hoarsely.

“How long this time?”

“Eleven days.  The shield has stayed.  People have crossed back and forth.  But you... you slept through an attack.”

Belle gapes at her.  Sometimes just the distant stomp of ogre feet has made her heart constrict sharply.  Perhaps she should be glad to have escaped the agony of a full attack, but the knowledge only leaves her more frightened.

“Are you thirsty, dear?  Come, let’s sit you up for some tea.”

Belle isn’t thirsty.  Or hungry, even though she can’t remember when she last ate.  She’s just tired, down to her marrow.  But she’ll do whatever she can to banish some of Colette’s distress.  So she allows herself to be propped up on a mound of pillows, and holds still while Colette raises a delicate cup to her mouth and tips in a small amount of hot, sweet tea.  Belle’s unfocused eyes fall on the crystal heart that gleams at the foot of the bed.  Just a few glints of white remain in the gold.  Belle wonders what could possibly be left to feed to it.  Trying to think of anything makes her head feel both heavy and empty at once.  And the black fog calls.  It would be so easy to sink into it, and let it take her away from this difficult world.  She can sleep.  Just sleep.  The shield will remain, that’s what Colette said.  Everyone will be safe.  She can let go.  It’s all right.

“Belle!  Belle, wake up, stay with me!”

She didn’t even feel her head fall back, and now she can’t lift it.  Her arms and legs are distant, useless objects.  Darkness swarms her vision.  Somewhere far away, porcelain hits stone, and Colette screams for Rumpelstiltskin.

Belle might feel the press of him on her heart, she’s too inert to be sure.  She barely registers the gust of his magic across her cheeks.

“She’s slipping away!” Colette cries, “Can’t you do anything?”

The bed dips and two hands cradle her head.  “Can you hear me, Belle?” Rumpelstiltskin murmurs.

She manages to force out a soft grunt in response.

“We’re nearly there, you know we are.  That’s why it’s trying to drag you down.  Force you to remain its servant.  Will you let it keep you?”

He doesn’t understand.  It’s already won.  She has no strength to fight.

And yet, he persists, “Can you tell me more about Phillipe?  Or the golden gown?  Or the honey bees?  Or Madame Arvo?”

Belle can only mumble, “‘S nothing... nothing left...”  His litany of precious memories are meaningless to her.  Even as she tries to recall walking the streets outside, in search of some tiny detail to give him, she realizes she’s only imagining what a Marshlands village should be.  The reality of Collioure has gone.  It’s all fallen apart.

His grip tightens and she feels him shift closer, voice urgent and low, “Just one more.  One thing.  The heart needs to live, it needs to beat with your love of this place.  Please, Belle, _please_.”

He sounds upset.  Why should he, if he’s only helping her to show up the fairies?  And why would he want to do that anyway?  How did the fairies earn his contempt?  Belle has learned so little about him, despite all her curiosity.  She would stay for that, if she could.  “Tell me... tell me something...” she whispers.  Maybe she’ll be able to hang on a little longer.

“Tell you something...” he echoes uncertainly, “I remember...  Heh, I remember when I was here, going about my unsavory business on a midsummer’s eve...  Afterwards, I heard music.  I looked outside, and saw a festival just starting.  And among the revelers, there was a young woman.  She danced- with more enthusiasm than grace, one must admit.  But her dark hair shined and her blue skirts flew.  She was so very bright.  So full of life, and joy.  And love.”

Belle’s heart thumps heavily.  She thought the hooded figure in the tavern window was a trick of the light.  When she looked again it was gone, though the image lingered in her mind.

“I almost imagined I could join that shining dancer.  Feel her joy and love myself.”

Belle’s heart throbs as she murmurs, “I wish you had.”

Any other words are cut off as her heart swells against her ribs and the black fog turns to gold before it swallows her up.

She floats in it a while, trying not to wonder if this is her new prison.  But eventually it dims around her, and weight returns to her body, and she wakes once more in her bed, with Colette running a hand over her hair.  “Mother?”

A brilliant smile stretches across her exhausted face.  “Hello, sweetheart.  How do you feel?”

“I- I don’t know.  How long have I been asleep?”

“Just a few hours.”

Belle blinks and notices a golden glow shining on Colette like rays of the setting sun.  She turns to see the crystal heart filling the room with light that pulses slightly with a two-part beat.  Her hand moves to her chest.  The beat there does not match the crystal heart’s.  “Is the shield intact?”

“Rumpelstiltskin said it stumbled a bit in the transfer, but it’s holding steady now.”

Belle takes a breath.  If the shield had been damaged somehow, she never would’ve forgiven herself.  She sits up, and the fact that she can do so without fatigue immediately weighing her down seems like a miracle.  She glances around the room and finds no one else but Colette.  “Where is he?”

“He said he had other calls to make,” she replies in an oddly apologetic tone. 

Belle hopes Colette thanked him for whatever he did to make the heart ready to take on the enchantment.  He spoke to her, shared a story.  Something about the midsummer festival the year before the invasion began.  Was he really there?  The details are blurring in Belle’s mind like a dream at dawn.  Soon all that’s left is the sound of his voice- softer than normal, almost human.  The memory unravels the more Bell tries to recall it, for no particular reason she can figure out.  In any case, her stomach releases a rolling growl that makes both her and Colette chuckle.

“Perhaps you’d like a nice meal at last, and more tea.”

“Yes, Mother, thank you,” Belle replies with a small smile.

Colette touches her cheek before rising, “You’ll have it in a moment, sweetheart.  Now where did that tea cup get to?”

She soon bustles out, leaving Belle to contemplate her new circumstances.  It occurs to her that she could’ve gone to the kitchens with Colette.  She can do that.  She can stand up and walk out of the door, after months spent in bed.  That is, unless the clerics still want her imprisoned.  If they frowned upon her use of fairy magic, they’d be infuriated to learn she’s consorted with the Dark One.  They would condemn Colette along with her.  Even Lord Maurice might not forgive them.

There’s nothing for it.  She has to leave.  It should hurt more than it does.

She stays for supper, sitting cross-legged on the bed across from Colette while they eat from heaping plates of roast chicken and potatoes and bowls of fruit.  Colette mostly talks of things Belle no longer remembers, but she smiles anyway.

Running her thumb along the edge of an empty bowl, Belle says, “No one can know what we’ve done.  Not any of it.  They won’t understand.  Not even Papa.”

“Of course,” Colette murmurs, eyes downcast, “Do you think I burst into a council meeting to announce I was seeking aid from the Dark One?  I’ve long since learned how to keep a secret, dear.  They’ll go on thinking you’re in this bed, maintaining the shield.  Meanwhile, we’ve got to get you out of here.”

Gazing into Colette’s clear, sad eyes, Belle’s throat tightens.  “I may never be able to come back.  And if I do, I won’t be the same.”

She simply smiles.  “Neither will Collioure.  All things change, Belle.  And they can change for the better, if you wait for it.”

Colette prepares a travel sack full of clothes and food and supplies, and books she promises are Belle’s favorites.  With the hood of a cloak pulled over her head, Belle finally leaves the stone chamber, her gaze on the glowing, pulsing crystal heart as she shuts the door.  They creep through the castle’s back corridors until they reach a door Colette says leads to the kitchen gardens.

Beyond, a soft spring rain washes the world in shades of green and gray.  Belle draws in a deep breath of fresh air.  On the threshold, she turns back to Colette.  “I don’t remember all of my life with you, but I know I love more than anything, Mother.  I’ll miss you.”

“Oh, my baby...” Colette chokes out, grabbing hold of Belle and pulling her into a fierce hug.  Belle grips her back for a long moment before they release each other.  “Go, hurry, before you’re seen.  Follow that path to the right and you’ll find the main road.”

Belle runs, the joy of freedom powering her legs even as rain mixes with her tears.  She doesn’t stop until she comes to the shield.  Every rain drop that passes it leaves pearly ripples to waver across the surface.  Belle’s palm skims over it, and she feels the beat that does not match her own.  She pushes through, a strange tingle moving up her arm and shoulder, over her head and along the rest of her until she stands outside Collioure.

Belle is free, with all the vulnerability that implies.  With her mother’s love and little else in her heart, she begins her trek east to the region where the king’s army has made more progress fighting back the ogre hordes.


	7. Chapter 7

If Rumpelstiltskin chose, he could retire to his castle and devote himself to traversing the most esoteric and sublime echelons of magic, forever shunning the physical plane.  He could, if not for his mission, the most grievous wrong he must put right or die trying.  And to do that, he must understand the mortal world.  And to do _that_ , he must trudge through the muck with all the rest.  Still, it’s not so bad.  This inn does a nice pork dumpling.

It’s a market day in this mountain village and Rumpelstiltskin licks his fingers clean as he strolls out among the stalls.  He’s cloaked in a spell that doesn’t exactly make him invisible, just not worth noticing.  Not unlike how he once was, long ago.  There’s no need to cause a stir.  The business that brought him this way is done- he’s just taking in the scenery now.

Up ahead there’s a performance that seems to be part dance and part puppet show, players in dark clothes swirling around each other while the colorful constructions sat on their arms and shoulders interact.  Rumpelstiltskin isn’t familiar with the language spoken in this region and he prefers not to spend more magic on translating, so he just observes the performers’ graceful movements while creating his own story for the puppets.  Jangling music played by a small group standing nearby picks up in speed and strength.  The audience claps and bobs along to it, chiming in with a chant of their own.  Rumpelstiltskin’s gaze roves over them, and stops on a familiar face.

Lady Belle of Collioure bounces on her feet as she claps and chants, her rich brown hair shining in the sun and her blue eyes alight with joy.  Compared to the other times Rumpelstiltskin has seen her, lying pale and limp in her bed in that bare dungeon cell, this looks much more... correct.

He should leave.  She’s clearly enjoying her hard-won freedom.  She doesn’t need him butting in.  As if he has anything to say to her, any reason to make contact aside from professional curiosity.  No one he knows has survived the removal of true love from their hearts, or even attempted it.  She seems well, not a dull-eyed husk of a woman.  That was a possible fate Rumpelstiltskin decided not to mention.  If he did now, would she simply collapse inside, the beautiful light within her sputtering out forever?

Half a second before he decides to go, Belle’s gaze fixes on him as if his cloak of magic doesn’t exist.  He’d be surprised, but then she’s been taught how to see into the heart of things.  He can still vanish in a puff of smoke whenever he chooses- this is what he tells himself as she wends her way through the crowd and over to him.

“Good day, Rumpelstiltskin,” she says, giving him a small curtsey in spite of the breeches she wears.

In turn he gives her a deep bow, “Well met, Lady Belle.”

“Fancy seeing you in this part of the world.”

“I go wherever there is a purpose for me,” he responds with a smooth shrug.  “What brings you here?”

“The wind,” she says with a grin and a shrug of her own, “And I heard the autumn moon plays weren’t to be missed.”  She waves a hand toward the performers.

“Do you know the language?”

“I do, though I, uh... I don’t remember how I learned it.”  Her grin turns subdued.

Ah, that’s right.  He’d also forgotten, among all the things she told him was a mention of translating a foreign book in the castle library’s collection.  Part of him is fascinated that she retains the knowledge of the language without the root memory of gaining it.  Most of him is sorry for it.

“Anyway, I also heard about a drink they make here, something sweet with fruit and milk.  Would you like to try it with me?”  He stares at Belle long enough for her to duck her head and mumble, “New experiences are nice and all, but I’ve found I enjoy them more with company.  And I’m not as conversational in this language as I’d like to be.”

“Fine,” Rumpelstiltskin blurts out, “A drink.  One.  We can.  Yes.”

Belle smiles at his babble and steps forward to loop an arm around his and lead him down the street.  Before he knows it, he’s standing by a booth with a cup of something that is indeed sweet and fruity and milky, trying not to be too obvious about watching Belle sip her own drink.

“Can I ask why you didn’t stay, after you transferred the enchantment?  Didn’t you want to see your handiwork in action?”

His mind is dragged back to when the crystal heart pulsed into what could almost be called life.  Just before, she asked him to tell her something, so he...  Well, somehow or another, the heart became activated.  The second it did, he plunged his hand into Belle’s chest and took out her natural heart.  He saw the fairy magic wrapped around it, strangling it.  One great burst of his will sent it leaping to the crystal heart to feed on a never-ending supply of true love.  Then Belle’s heart, the thing strong enough to defend an entire village, simply rested in his palm, thumping steadily.  It was more than a coward like Rumpelstiltskin could fathom. 

If removing the true love from her heart turned her cold and cruel, or empty, he would never forgive himself.  And yet, unless she’s a better actress than he would’ve guessed, that heart hasn’t lost any of its bright warmth.  He’s becoming more perplexed by this with each passing minute.  But for now all he can do is force a smile and mutter, “Places to be.  You understand.”

“Not really.  I don’t have anywhere to be.  Not anymore.  Which is fine.  I always wanted to see the world.  I’d just about accepted that I never would, until- all that happened.  So, no, this is fine.”  She gazes out at the busy street for a moment, squinting into the setting sun.  “I just... I hope I can go back someday.  Even if it never feels like home the way it used to, I’m still my father’s heir.  I mean, I think I am.  Maybe if I’m gone long enough, by the time I return they’ll accept me again.”

Rumpelstiltskin has long since gained a hard contempt for the strictures of Collioure’s society that punished Belle for daring to be braver and more selfless than everyone else.  They don’t deserve her, he’s quite sure.  And he deserves her far, far less, but he still hears himself say, “Perhaps you’d like to travel with me.”

Belle looks shocked, which he prefers over horrified or disgusted.

“It’s not forever, dearie,” he clarifies, “Just until I get sick of you.  Or you wander off and get lost somewhere.  Or you’re ready to go- home.”  He just wants to know how she’s managing to be herself after losing so much of what made her so.  That’s all.  It’s professional curiosity.  Nothing more.  Anyway, what’s the point of locating Dsinezumi’s lost treasure if no one’s around to look impressed?

“Well, who could turn down such an enticing offer?” Belle quips dryly.  But she smiles and finishes her drink, then reaches out and takes Rumpelstiltskin’s hand.  “I certainly can’t.  Where are we going?”

He finds a smile of his own spreading across his face.  “We’re going to uncover a mystery,” he replies, setting down his drink and wrapping them both in his magic.  They vanish in a puff of smoke, off on a grand adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
